by C. J. Thomas
“I just heard it on my way up from getting lunch.” Frank shrugged, taking another huge bite of his Italian sub. In a health-crazed city, he managed to find the one or two places that sold crap like that. “A couple squad cars went to her place. I thought you’d wanna know.”
I bolted from my desk without even thanking him for the information, pulling the suit jacket from the back of my chair and punching my fists through the sleeves as I ran down the stairs and out to the parking lot.
My head spun. What happened to her? Why didn’t she call me, personally? I could hardly think straight, ugly thoughts clouding my brain.
The car couldn’t go fast enough for me, and, of course, the streets were clogged with traffic. I pulled the dome light from my glove box and slapped it on top of the car, the siren signaling others to get the hell out of my way.
I couldn’t stop thinking of all the terrible things that could have happened. Was she all right? Did she catch the guys in the act? Did they hurt her?
No, if they’d hurt her, I would have heard.
Or would I?
Maybe that was why she didn’t call me. She was in the hospital.
Jesus, why hadn’t Frank gotten more information? Why didn’t I wait to find out more before I left? If she were in the hospital, I’d be going the wrong way. I would want to be with her, not at her place.
“Julia, why didn’t you call me?” I muttered, my jaw clenched. I couldn’t stop beating myself up. I must have done something to piss her off. Maybe I should have taken her home after the party, no matter what she said. Did I fail some kind of test?
What the hell did that matter? If she was testing me, I didn’t want to have anything to do with her. I was too old for games. It didn’t make feeling like the last to know any easier to handle.
I pulled in behind the squad car, then raced up the stairs. A uniformed cop stood guard at the door. He stepped aside when I flashed my badge.
I had never been inside her apartment, so I didn’t know how it looked before the break-in, but my heart went out to her when I saw the wreck it had been left in. Where was she?
“Julia?” I stepped over a pile of magazines on the floor, going further into the apartment.
“Dan?”
She came rushing down the hallway and I opened my arms to her. I closed my eyes when she pressed herself to me, wrapping her in a strong embrace. Her body was tense, shaking. I held her tight, filled with relief that she was all right.
She relaxed, her muscles loosening.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I murmured, my mouth against her thick, curly hair.
“It was instinct to call 911,” she explained. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Understandable.” I glanced around the room, my eye taking in the wreckage. Somebody had done a good job turning things upside down. “Are you all right? I mean, physically, at least?”
“Fine, really. The place was empty when I got here.” She shook, and I sensed she tried to hold back tears.
I shushed her, stroking her head, trying to comfort her in any way I could. I had never seen her anything less than on her game. The tough-as-nails reporter had dissolved, leaving a shaky, tearful girl behind. The caveman inside me wanted nothing more than to protect her. How dare anyone think they could hurt her?
Over the top of her head, I saw two cops milling about. I pulled away, smoothing hair back from her face. “Why don’t you make a cup of tea or coffee or something, to relax a little? I’m sure the kitchen’s usable?”
“Not very, but I’ll make due.” She showed me the kitchen, which had been torn apart. It didn’t make any sense. Why bother with that?
They weren’t after anything. They only wanted to scare her.
I left her filling a kettle at the sink and went to the bedroom, where the most damage was done. Again, a message.
You’re not safe. We can get you where you sleep.
One of the cops glanced at me while scribbling notes. “You gonna dust for prints?” she asked, sounding bored.
I looked around, shaking my head. “Waste of time, isn’t it? They would’ve worn gloves.”
She nodded. “And they didn’t steal anything, either. That’s what the resident claims.”
“They didn’t?” I went back to the kitchen. Julia waited for the kettle to boil, hands still shaking a little as she pulled a mug from the cabinet. I wanted to hold her for as long as she needed to be held.
“You’re sure nothing was stolen?” I asked.
She nodded. “I mean, nothing of value. I don’t have that much of real value, anyway. I had my laptop with me, my phone. A few nice pieces of jewelry, all of which were in my jewelry box. TV’s there, Blu-ray.”
My theory was correct, then. There was no theft. Only a scare tactic.
Who would be so low?
I sidled up next to her at the counter. “Made any enemies lately, Ms. Mabel?” I tried to keep my tone light—not to lessen what she was going through, but to add a little levity. I couldn’t watch her fall apart over it.
“Gee, let me count them.” She smirked at me, pouring water into her mug. She was trying, brave girl.
“While you’re counting, I think you should get your things together.”
“My things?” She stared at me over the rim of her mug.
“Yes, a few things to get you through the night. I don’t feel safe, leaving you here.”
She frowned like she’d had the same thought. “I know. I was thinking about which hotel to call first.”
“No hotel. I want you with me.”
Her eyes widened. The reaction I’d expected, of course. “With you?” she sputtered, wiping tea from her chin.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, not a problem. Just a surprise.” I noticed how she leaned away from me when she said it, like she subconsciously wanted to put space between us.
“There’s plenty of room. Three guest bedrooms, two guest bathrooms.”
“Okay, you don’t need to brag. And here I was, thinking my apartment was so spacious.” She grinned, but it was a half-hearted gesture. It was our thing, the way we bantered back and forth. More of a habit than anything else. Her hands still shook a little. There was no light in her eyes.
“What do you say? I’m a good cook. I know I’ve bragged about that before.”
“Yes, you have.” She grinned more genuinely then, and it did my heart good.
“Is that a yes?”
“I think it is, Detective. If you don’t mind a woman being all up in your business.”
I heard a lot more than her joking tone behind her words. I ached to touch her again, to trace the line of her cheek with my fingers, to tip her head back and kiss away the pain and fear.
If only I could do that. I wasn’t sure even I was good enough to take it all away.
“Get your things, then. I don’t want to waste a minute. You shouldn’t be here.”
“What about the apartment, though? It’s such a wreck. I hate to leave it like this.” Still, she went from the kitchen to the bedroom. I followed her.
“I can have a cleaning crew come in for you.” The offer tripped from my tongue without me giving it any thought. It seemed like the right thing to do.
She smiled. “That’s sweet, but this isn’t just a cleanup job. They don’t know where anything goes. Gosh, this is going to take forever.” She stood with her hands on her hips, a look of complete despair on her face.
“You’ll get through it. I’ll help in any way I can.” She blushed, looking away. I gave her privacy while she picked through her clothes—I’d already gotten an eyeful of what remained of her panty drawer, and I’d be doing a lot of thinking about that during my alone time.
The more looking around I did, the more convinced I was that it was a stupid, sloppy attempt to scare her off the trail of . . . something. What was it? How many more stories was she working on besides Emelia’s?
Or was it Emelia’s story that got her into trouble? Was
there somebody out there desperate enough to throw her off their trail by any means necessary? Could this be just the first of many such warnings? How long before the warnings turned to something more ominous?
My hands tightened into fists as I vowed to make the person who did this pay.
“I’m ready.” She stood in the hall, reminding me of a little girl pretending to be a grown-up. She looked like the Julia I always knew—tall, slim, with that gorgeous head of hair I’d been wanting to sink my hands into for years.
The self-possession was gone, though. No tough, caustic wit. No smartass comments. A scared little girl.
Yes. I would gladly kill whoever did that to her.
134
J ulia
I DIDN’T KNOW what to say. I was bowled over by his generosity, of course—the last thing I expected him to offer was a night at his place.
He didn’t think I was leading him into the offer, did he? I chewed my lip as he carried my bag down the stairs and out to his car. I didn’t want him to think I was some sort of clingy, desperate girl just looking for the chance to set him up.
I’d known women like that in my life. One girl “lost the key” to her dorm room in college so she’d have to spend the night with a male friend who was too nice to say no. Another “accidentally” fell into a guy she was crushing on while at a party, trying to lure him into a kiss. I even had a friend who considered faking a pregnancy to get a man to propose.
I always told myself I’d never be one of those women—especially the fake pregnancy one, because that was just awful. I would be a stand-up person. I would live in my truth and be a woman a man wanted to be with because of my intelligence and humor. Not because I tricked him into sleeping with me, or set it up so he felt he had to protect me.
There I was, regardless, sitting in Dan’s car while he whisked me away to his house.
Saving me.
Protecting me.
I didn’t hate it, either. I only hoped he didn’t see it as a ploy to get his sympathy.
I sat with one arm folded over my waist, the other elbow leaning on it. I chewed my thumbnail, a nervous habit I’d thought I dropped ages before. Old habits die hard, especially in the face of fear.
I never understood what it was like to feel violated before. To have my world turned upside down like that. I was a little too cocky, maybe, sure I’d float above the surface of the seedier side of the business. I wouldn’t get mixed up in vengeful plots. After those first few years of pissing people off and stepping on toes, I had walked the straight and narrow.
Look where it got me. On the verge of tears, chewing my nails to shreds, looking over my shoulder as I rode alongside Dan.
Waiting to see that shifty Toyota behind me.
“Why do you keep looking around?” he asked. His tone was low, calm, soothing. I got the impression he thought he was talking to a wounded animal.
In a sense, he was.
“Because I felt like somebody was following me earlier.” I looked at him, wanting to see how he’d respond. I watched his jaw move, the muscles jumping.
“Were they? Or did you just feel like they were?”
“And this is why I didn’t call you right away.” I sighed. “I knew it would sound like I was making things up.”
“I never said you were making things up,” he protested.
“I’m not some fretful, paranoid idiot,” I reminded him.
“I didn’t say you were. You’re the one putting those words into my mouth.” He glanced at me, then looked at the road ahead. “Why do you do that?”
“What, exactly?”
“You imagine what I think of you. You don’t know what I think of you. Don’t make it up. Okay?”
I fell silent, feeling all shaky inside. I didn’t want to pick a fight, not really. It was the last thing I wanted. I felt small and scared. My nerves were as frayed as my fingernails.
“Come here,” he said, holding an arm out. “Please.”
I leaned toward him, allowing him to put his arm around my shoulders. I sighed, immediately relaxing.
There was something about being close to him that felt right. There was nothing sexual about the way he touched me, nothing demanding. He only wanted to comfort me, and he did.
I closed my eyes and fell silent, remaining that way for the rest of the ride while he stroked my hair.
He knew just how to calm me. He knew what I needed. How was that possible? We hardly knew each other, for all the time we’d been acquainted.
Stop thinking so much. I knew that was what I needed to do. Let it go, stop over-thinking, and while I was at it, stop worrying about my apartment.
If they’d wanted to hurt me, they could have waited around for me to show up. They hadn’t. I was safe and sound, with Dan’s arm wrapped around me. Nothing could hurt me while I was with him. I even allowed myself to close my eyes.
I opened them when the car made a sharp, sudden turn. We were going up a winding driveway, toward a house that reminded me more of what a celebrity would own than a detective. I sat up straight, looking around, my mouth open in surprise.
“Like it?” he asked, pulling up in front of the house. I heard the obvious pride in his voice, and maybe a little bit of laughter over my reaction. I didn’t care. Pride took a back seat when I was so obviously awed.
“How much money did you make for that screenplay, and how do I get in on that action?” I climbed out of the car, still awestruck.
It was in the Spanish style, two stories, with lush landscaping all around. He led me up the flagstone path to the massive, wooden front door and into the foyer.
“Holy hell,” I whispered, looking around.
I stepped through a tall, arched opening into the living room, which looked out over a gorgeous back patio complete with swimming pool, hot tub, and the most stunning view I’d ever seen.
“Can I go out there?” I asked, pointing. He shrugged good-naturedly. I had to see it up close. It was breathtaking, and I already couldn’t wait for darkness to fall so the city would light up.
“You like it?” he asked, standing in the doorway. I was at a loss for words. It was the perfect place for me to unwind a little, to feel like a safe, secure human being again.
And he had given me that chance.
“I’m only sorry I didn’t know you had a pool,” I said, gazing longingly at the crystal-clear water. “I would’ve brought my suit.”
“Eh, you’ll find the rules at Casa Pierce are pretty loose. No suit required.”
I shot him a withering look, and he grinned. He wouldn’t change. I was glad, though—I didn’t want to be coddled. I just wanted a little comfort.
I couldn’t suppress the little tingle I felt between my legs when he made the comment, either. I was scared after the robbery. I wasn’t dead. He was still a walking, talking fantasy. I wondered what the night would lead to. I didn’t bring any sexy clothes with me.
Should I have brought sexy clothes?
I stepped back inside and allowed him to show me around. I saw the entertainment room, which led me to believe the house was once owned by some sort of star or executive, thanks to the theater-style seating and movie screen extending across one wall. The perfect place for checking out one’s latest film. The kitchen was any cook’s dream, with its top-of-the-line appliances. “There’s a pizza oven out back, too,” Dan informed me.
Of course there was.
A home gym, wine cellar beneath the kitchen, formal dining room which looked to seat at least three dozen. “And you live here alone?” I asked, gazing again out the window, across the wide expanse of land which comprised Los Angeles.
“Yeah, it’s just me here,” he said. “I like my space.”
“I can see that.” I grinned. “Ever have any of your neighbors over for a cookout? Maybe a pool party?”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t run in those circles. Though I’ve been invited to a few of their get-togethers. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable there. Had I know
n you were such an industry insider, I might have thought twice and invited you along.”
“You’ll have to keep me in mind next time.” I could get used to living the way he did. It wasn’t that I didn’t like my neighborhood—though I would never feel truly safe there again. Once I stood in his living room, on his patio, watching the world go by way below me . . . I could see the appeal.
“What do you want to do?” he asked. “Anything I have here is at your disposal.”
I smiled at his generosity. “You really are too much,” I murmured, looking around. My stomach audibly rumbled and I covered my face with my hands.
He laughed. “I guess that settles the question of what to do.”
“Sorry. I didn’t eat much at lunch—hardly anything. Oh! I meant to tell you what happened when I met with Margo.”
Dan held up a hand. “Stop. No shop talk. You’ve been through enough today. Tonight is for relaxation. We can talk about it tomorrow. I’m sure it can wait until then.”
I frowned at being put off, but he was right. I needed to take a step back.
“In that case, do you think it would be all right for me to take a shower? I’d love to freshen up.”
“That, I can handle. Which bathroom would you like?” He picked up my bag and led the way up a sweeping staircase.
“Whichever is the best.” I giggled.
“How did I know you were going to say that?” He led me to a large bathroom which reminded me more of a spa than anything else. I froze on entry.
“I didn’t mean you had to give me the master bath,” I said.
“This isn’t the master bath.” His voice dripped with amusement. I took in the marble floors, whirlpool tub, and shower stall big enough to fit a half-dozen grown men.
“Whoa. This is spectacular,” I declared. It even had a beautiful view.
“Here, I’ll show you the guest room.”
My heart sank just a little before I reminded myself that I wasn’t there for romance. He was protecting me. No reason to assume I’d stay in his room. Besides, the room he showed me was roughly three times the size of my bedroom and the bed felt as comfy as anything. I could live with it, even if I’d be sleeping alone.